Je t'aime
by Victoria M
Summary: The language of love is less universal than you might think.


**I Love You**

by Victoria Martin

Warning: Pure silliness

"I don't care if we are stuck in a cell awaiting interrogation, and the only way out is through that locked door," said Napoleon in a whisper. "I am not making bedroom eyes at that guard."

It wasn't as slashy as it sounds. "That guard" was female, a large, square woman with a severe haircut and an expression of bovine devotion to duty.

"You only have to distract her long enough for me to get the lockpick out of my shoe," muttered Illya.

"And then pick the lock," objected Napoleon. "How am I supposed to keep her attention?"

"Mimi Doolittle managed it," said Illya. "Are you telling me that Mimi's powers of sexual allure are greater than yours?"

"Mimi managed it because I showed her how," said Napoleon.

"Ah yes," said Illya, "Those that can't do, teach."

Napoleon scowled. "All right," he said, "I'll do it. But if I manage it, I write this section of the report."

--

Napoleon sidled up to the bars sporting his most predatory smile, although inwardly he was fuming. How dare Illya imply that Mimi Doolittle, that rank amateur, had done a better job at seduction than he could? He let his eyes slide appreciatively over the guard's body, until the woman became aware of his gaze. When she looked his way, Napoleon winked at her.

"Has anyone ever told you what beautiful eyes you have?" he asked silkily.

The guard looked blank. "Uh?" she said. Damn, if she didn't speak English, this was going to be more of a challenge. He glanced round at Illya. "Do you think she could be Russian?" he asked, "She has a certain Soviet _je ne sais quoi_ about her."

Illya looked at the guard, then back at Napoleon. From the expression on his face he was considering being offended at this impugning of his country's standards of feminine beauty. Then he shrugged. "Could be," he said. Evidently he felt that the situation was too serious to indulge in petty squabbling.

"How do you say "You're beautiful" in Russian?" Napoleon asked.

_"Ti takaya krasivaya."_

Napoleon repeated the phrase carefully, but the guard's face stayed as blank as ever.

"More," he hissed.

"Your eyes are like stars, your lips are like cherries, your, um, knees, are like, uh, billiard balls, round and smooth," improvised Illya.

"I can't pronounce all that," growled Napoleon _sotto voce_. "Keep it simple. How do you say 'I love you'?"

_"Ya tebya liubliu."_

Napoleon pressed his face to the bars. _"Ya tebya liubliu,"_ he said in his deepest, most musical voice. The guard took a piece of gum out of her pocket and chewed on it thoughtfully. She looked more cow-like than ever.

"Maybe she's from another part of the Soviet Union," suggested Illya. "Try _myen syeni sooyom_, that's Kazakhstani."

Napoleon wasn't really surprised when Kazakhstani failed to elicit a more favorable response than English or Russian. "Give me something European," he suggested.

_"Obicham te, je t'aime, mina rakastan sinua, te amo, s'agapo, volim te, ich liebe dich_," offered Illya in rapid succession. All drew a blank. As did _aishiteru, saya cinta padamu szeretlek, ninapenda wewe_ and _hum tumhe pyar karte hae._

"It's no use," said Illya. "You've finally found someone who's impervious to your charms. You might as well give up."

"Not yet," said Napoleon through gritted teeth. Mimi had managed it, and he wasn't going to be outdone by a strait-laced spinster with the erotic experience of a cabbage. "We just haven't found the right language, that's all. Keep going."

"I'm running out of languages, Napoleon. The only other ones I know are all Chinese dialects, and I'm fairly sure she's not from Canton."

"She might speak it as a second language, though."

"Okay, okay. But make sure you get the tones right, otherwise it means something completely different. _Ngo oiy n-_"

They never did find out if the object of Napoleon's attentions spoke Cantonese, for at that moment another guard came in. This one was male and built like the proverbial brick shithouse. He was also armed with a sub-machine gun.

"The boss wants to see you two," he said, unlocking the cell door.

The female guard's impassive expression never changed as Illya was ushered out, but as Napoleon passed her she winked broadly. "You ain't so bad yourself, Solo," she said with a grin.


End file.
